Next, there came two schoolboys together, who asked for and bought a crib to "Virgil;" and then a girl who wanted some cheap French reading-book. Just as the clock began to strike five, Mr. Emblem lifted his head and looked up. The shop-door opened, and there stepped in, rubbing his shoes on the mat as if he belonged to the house, an elderly gentleman of somewhat singular appearance. He wore a fez cap, but was otherwise dressed as an Englishman--in black frock coat, that is, buttoned up--except that his feet were incased in black cloth shoes, so that he went noiselessly. His hair was short and white, and he wore a small white beard; his skin was a rather dark brown; he was, in fact, a Hindoo, and his name was Lala Roy. He nodded gravely to Mr. James and walked into the back shop. "It goes well," he asked, "with the buying and the selling?" "Surely, Lala, surely." "A quiet way of buying and selling; a way fit for one who meditates," said the Hindoo, looking round. "Tell me, my friend, what ails the child? Is she sick?" "The child is well, Lala." "Her mind wandered this morning. She failed to perceive a simple method which I tried to teach her. I feared she might be ill." "She is not ill, my friend, but I think her mind is troubled." "She is a woman. We are men. There is nothing in the world that is able to trouble the mind of the philosopher." "Nothing," said Mr. Emblem manfully, as if he, too, was a disciple. "Nothing; is there now?" The stoutness of the assertion was sensibly impaired by the question. "Not poverty, which is a shadow; nor pain, which passes; nor the loss of woman's love, which is a gain; nor fall from greatness--nothing. Nevertheless," his eyes did look anxious in spite of his philosophy, "this trouble of the child--will it soon be over?" "I hope this evening," said Mr. Emblem. "Indeed I am sure that it will be finished this evening." "If the child had a mother, or a brother, or any protectors but ourselves, my friend, we might leave her to them. But she has nobody except you and me. I am glad that she is not ill." He left Mr. Emblem, and passing through the door of communication between house and shop, went noiselessly up the stairs. One more visitor--unusual for so many to call on a September afternoon. This time it was a youngish man of thirty or so, who stepped into the shop with an air of business, and, taking no notice at all of the assistant, walked swiftly into the back shop and shut the door behind him. "I thought so," murmured Mr. James. "After he's been counting up his investments, his lawyer calls. More investments."